Under the Haze of Sleep
by Haikoui
Summary: He never sleeps. She watches him in the dark of the night instead of closing her eyes. His hair seems to glow; his eyes reflect upon the starry night sky; his mouth is drawn into an ever-so-slight smile. She wonders what he is thinking. Lokane. Oneshot.


**Title: **Under the Haze of Sleep

**Author**: Haikoui

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Loki or any other characters that were refined by Marvel for comic reasons. I don't think we'd have enough to cry about if I did own it, anyway.

**Summary: **He never sleeps. She watches him in the dark of the night instead of closing her eyes. His hair seems to glow; his eyes reflect upon the starry night sky; his mouth is drawn into an ever-so-slight smile. She wonders what he is thinking. Lokane. Oneshot.

**Notes: **First Lokane fic, let alone first Thor fic. I hope I did alright!

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At first, she is scared of him. She doesn't show it, but she does everything in her power to keep herself from trembling in front of him. He senses it, too. He senses it. He doesn't say a word.

They travel in silence, for the most part. Him and her and Thor. Thor's holding her, of course. Supporting her. Every so often, he asks if she's alright, if she needs to sit or eat or sleep, and as much as she loves him, she resents it. She won't be seen as _weak_ in front of – of this _monster._

Even then, that _monster_ doesn't talk to her. He spares his words for Thor, who is lucky enough to even get any words from him at all. His words are almost as dark as the hair he wears on his head, or the night he is cloaked in as he travels and leads them through.

"Jane," says Thor often. "Jane. You must rest."

"No," she declines stubbornly. "We'll keep going."

"Jane – "

"Thor, _please._ I'm not someone you have to dote over."

A doubtful look always crosses his face at those words, but once she says them, he leaves her alone. But she can't help notice the way Loki looks back at her, as though he is intrigued. Contemplative. Slightly… admiring. Or maybe she's imagining things.

He never looks at her for more than a few seconds at a time. He doesn't look at her when she speaks, unless she demands it, and when she does, she can't read a thing on his face. It is when she catches him watching her when she notices these small details.

During the nights, he doesn't sleep. Thor pests him about it, but the leaner brother never listens to Thor's words.

"Why do you wear yourself out so, Loki?" asks Thor tightly, as though in pain.

Loki regards him with a mocking smile. "I am no worse for the wear." And he offers no other explanation.

"Loki," says Thor pleadingly, "please. Please, brother. Sleep."

"As you wish, your highness," says Loki jeeringly.

Every night, he goes to sleep – and every night, the sleeping figure is an illusion. An illusion made to fool his brother. His real self is always sitting calmly in the darkest shadows of their location, looking up toward the sky. He never moves. Never looks her way. Never even makes a sound. If he is breathing, Jane can't tell.

One night, Jane can tell something is different.

His posture is the same, his hands folded neatly over his lap. His head is turned toward the sky; the starlight is reflecting on his face, and his eyes are watching them back, glistening –

Glistening.

She hates the feeling of her breath catching in her throat.

A second later, he blinks, and at once, he is composed, but Jane cannot relieve herself of the compromising image she had just witnessed. How can this – this monster – act like a man? She wants to hate him. She wants to feel repulsed by his demonstration of emotion.

"You needn't hide it, you know." His voice cuts through the tense night like an Asgardian sword made from the most expensive, sleek metal in existence.

She doesn't say anything. Instead, he continues with a low chuckle, and finally, she sees his eyes cast themselves over her in the night.

"You mortals are so stubborn," he murmurs. "So naïve. Your bodies cannot endure the long bout of exertion we gods undergo. Why force yourselves?"

She refuses to acknowledge his words, instead shutting her eyes and trying to block his voice out.

"How _truly_ sad," he says. "How _horribly_ sad it is to pretend to be something you are not."

There is something off with his voice. It is, of course, snide and biting, but she can sense… bitterness. Acridity. A touch of inquiry – a question of "why" hidden so well beneath his words that she almost misses it – and a sense of helplessness seems to have overcome his words.

She sits up and eyes him carefully, because she knows this isn't about her. Not really.

He watches her move from her spot as she approaches him. "You dare approach the beast?" he asks. He is speaking in riddles again.

"Yes, I do," she tells him.

He looks away, another chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Pathetic."

"_You're_ pathetic," she says suddenly. "Stop moping around. Your family loves you. Whatever you might have been before, you were raised as a prince of Asgard. What'll it take for you to realize that?"

He is nearly on top of her in a blink of an eye – his teeth are bared and he is so close to her she can feel his cold – cold? – breath haze over her from his mouth as he sneers at her in fury. "You know _nothing,_" he snarls. "However admirable you are as a mortal, you will _never _know the loss of family. You will never understand. Your _empathy_ – " He spits this word out in a trembling rage. " – is _useless."_

Jane is fuming. She shoves him away and musters her worst glare at him. "_I_ don't understand the loss of family?"

Loki's eyes follow her own for a few seconds thereafter, until he _tsks_ in a quick change of demeanor. "You mortals have much to learn."

"My parents died when I was a _kid,"_ she continues. "I didn't _have_ a family. Erik raised me as best he could. I lived without my parents for my entire life. Don't you ever say I don't understand losing family, because I've been through it more than anyone would ever care for."

It is a new face on him – he is taken by surprise, shocked speechless. She doesn't feel victory, however. She isn't sure she can.

Instead of saying anything, he turns back toward the stars and resumes his previous statuesque form. Jane isn't sure what makes her do it. Maybe it's his fascination with the stars. With magic. _Magic is only science that hasn't been discovered yet._ Somehow, she can feel that pull from him. His curiosity in learning, in logic, in strategy – it's… it's addictive. But she still isn't sure why she does it. She isn't sure why she moves closer and whispers, "Please, Loki. Help me understand. I want to know."

He closes his eyes. "You must know already. All those _stories._ Even the mortals knew before me."

She shakes her head. "I know you weren't born Asgardian. That's all." It isn't a lie.

When he does look at her, his eyes are completely red. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

Jane watches in awe (as well as anticipation) as he becomes a magnificent creature of icy-blue, with raised, patterned markings decorating his skin as though drawn onto him by the hand of another god; his red eyes look down toward his own hands as the blue transcends through to his fingers, and at once, there is a Frost Giant – a _Jotunn_ – sitting in front of her.

"You see what I am?" he whispers. "Do you truly see? I am a monster. I am what everyone fears. I am a piece in the All Father's game of 'peace' and 'power' – only meant to rule that dead, cold world for his own gain. I am nothing but a planned sentinel for use for _Odin._" He laughs bitterly. "Even you watch me with wide eyes in fear."

There is a moment of tense silence, mostly on his part, but she allows her eyes to trace his frigid form carefully. She halfway expects him to leap up and strangle her, but somehow, she manages to push the fear aside. It is as though she had overcome a barrier within herself and between her and the figure in front of her. Somehow, she finds herself eager to know more about Thor's self-proclaimed estranged brother. She isn't scared. At least, not now. Not anymore. A broken man is sitting before her, desperate for acceptance. His red eyes meet hers again, as though waiting for a response.

Jane shakes her head, pulling her knees to her chest. Her heart is thumping, but she says bravely, "There isn't anything to fear about you, Loki."

He scoffs.

"I'm serious." She waits, and then – "You're beautiful, you know."

_That_ catches him off guard. His hands clench. "What?"

She doesn't know what made her say it in the first place – maybe it's the way his eyes flash, as though he is ready to pounce, or maybe it's the fact that she is desperate to learn more about a world from which she is not from. _Typical,_ she thinks to herself. _Always blabbering on about stuff that could kill you._ She can't stop now that she's started. "You are. You look like you're carved straight from diamonds. How cold is your body temperature? Can you travel on your own? Can normal Frost Giants make illusions, like you? How about children? Can they do magic, or can they – "

She stops, though, when she sees him laugh. Outwardly laugh. "So peculiar," he says. "I become a whole different being, and here you are, spouting out 'scientific' questions as though I am something worth ogling."

"You are. You're worth something. Especially to humans."

There is another pregnant pause; Loki narrows his eyes at her and she decides to correct herself slightly. "Scientists. Especially to scientists." There is still a part deep within her that is waiting for him to strike her down.

Instead, he simply watches her carefully. "I am not a beauty, Jane Foster."

"Well – " She splutters, feeling her cheeks flush. "Alright, I didn't mean it so… weirdly. The point is, you can't be ashamed of who you are. You were raised the way Thor was raised. Just because you can change into a Frost Giant doesn't mean you have to _be_ a Frost Giant."

"I admire your mortal sentiments."

"Good."

"That does not mean I will abide by them."

She fights the urge to roll her eyes. He's even more insufferable than Thor was when he had first dropped to Earth. "At least try, okay?"

His red eyes begin to fade, and she can see the green of his own Asgardian eyes come back into his irises. The blue draws back from his pores, and the intricate, exotic markings sink back into his skin. The adrenaline in her core begins to fade as his Asgardian appearance reemerges. Jane feels as though she has seen a new side of him, a vulnerable side, and the thought makes her feel somewhat proud.

"I suppose," he begins, "that I will, perhaps. For you. Because you will be my sister soon, I suspect."

Her stomach twinges uncomfortably. Somehow, that doesn't sound quite so appealing. "We'll see."

Loki doesn't question her, surprisingly enough. Instead, he says, "Good." And he waits for a moment. When he finally looks like his own self, he motions to her makeshift bed. "A mortal such as yourself, however strong you deem yourself to be, should rest."

"You should, too," she says automatically. His eyebrows rise.

"Oh?"

She nods firmly, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind that is shrieking, _Jane, you idiot! You aren't supposed to watch out for him! He's killed thousands of people, for crying out loud!_

He doesn't say a word, and she heads back to her spot to sleep. There is no movement from him any longer. She closes her eyes and sleeps.

And when she wakes up merely an hour later, she finds him in the same spot. Slumped over, eyes shut, chest moving up and down slowly, slow, deep breaths drawing in and out from his nose.

She thanks whatever god there is that Thor is a heavy sleeper and closes her eyes again.

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**Was it okay? I hope it was alright! Review? :)**


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